Beautiful Charm
by theShapeOfLight
Summary: There are insecurities in any relationship, great love or otherwise. Howl and Sophie's love is no exception and while they do their best there are of course always other outside forces to reckon with. M RATING CH. 1 only! just to be safe.
1. Beautiful Charm: Chapter I

**Beautiful Charm**_  
Chapter One: From the End to the Beginning to...?_

* * *

The sky filtered a golden shade over the peaches and leftover blue of daytime, stratus clouds winking in and out of sight, playing foreground to a giant, floating abode—some called it a castle. At first glance, or second or third, it seemed rickety in places at best, almost tattered, nearly falling apart at the edges (and it had a lot of edges.) But most who were fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of the moving castle knew it better than that and the grandeur of its widely known keeper made it more a beacon of greatness rather than a ramshackle mobile home. Howl, they called him now—once known as Pendragon, once known as Jenkins and both of the latter at the same time. Now it was only Howl. The story went that he had met an old woman with the spirit of a young girl who gave him back his heart with the aid of a scarecrow with the head of a turnip, a wheezing old dog, an apprentice, a depleted witch, and a fire demon. Of course, you can't believe everything you hear, but in this world where wizards and witches were not so unusual, the chances of that story being true were much greater than most.

Back to the present though, the sky was spattered with a gold glow and as a kind wind gave a gentle nudge against the Northeast side of the Howl's Moving Castle, a sound almost like a glass latch rang softly and a door opened to a small porch area overlooking the endless firmament. Sophie favored this deck out of all the other nooks and crannies to be found—inside or out of the dwelling—and most twilights, many similar to this one, found her out on it, elbows resting lazily on the metal railing. It was only the edge of summer, but a rogue autumnal gust swept its way up and around her, causing a shiver as Sophie stood up from her leaning position to rub her hands up and down her arms to stop the chill. Her starlight inspired hair, still short from when she had given her braid to Calcifer, grazed her cheeks, disrupted by the wind and she was seriously considering retreating back inside when a weight settled over her shoulders and arms.

"For a girl who taught me all I needed to live, you don't seem to have any common sense," a laughing, but not unkind voice chided her and she rolled her eyes.

"Something I sacrificed when I met up with you, I seem to recall," Sophie quipped too lovingly to be misconstrued as biting, and Howl chuckled in the sort of timbre that had surely stolen many girls' hearts before he met Sophie. Ignoring her challenging stare, he readjusted the cloak he had draped over her and then drew her to him, pleased when, as usual, she nestled gladly into his embrace. "How are you tonight, Howl?"

"Very good right now," he smiled through half-lidded eyes down at her, and instinctively bent and angled toward her for a kiss. The gesture managed to somehow be heartbreakingly tender. Perhaps it was because Sophie was the first person Howl was ever able to learn such gentleness from, the first person to ever inspire such a softness in him and maybe because of that, it was that pure. In any case, both wizard and former hat-maker let it linger, the latter bringing her hand to her lover's face to frame his right cheek, the former drawing her a little closer, hand resting comfortably around Sophie's waist. The kiss might have deepened if not for a sudden and distinctive wheeze and exhale from below. Sophie paused in the kiss and glanced down at Heen. Once Sulliman's lapdog and extra set of eyes, he now resided with the motley bunch of Howl's castle. A long, doleful stare and another wheeze later, the chicken-legged dog turned in two scattered circles before plopping down at their feet and wheezing again.

"He's cuter now that I don't have to carry him," Sophie remarked lightly and Howl good-naturedly gave a short laugh.

"Yes, I suppose that would change your perspective favorably," he said and looked over his shoulder at the stars as they sparkled into view. "Sophie, look," he whispered down at her ear level. She turned and he moved to accommodate the movement, shifting his arm to go around her shoulders, all of this going unnoticed by Heen of course—who if he did notice, didn't deign to give any hint of it. Howl could feel Sophie's smile and as he had learned it always did, it made him smile too, made him feel warm and certain like he never was before he met her.

"I am glad I met you, Howl of Howl's Moving Castle," Sophie smiled up at him through starlit bangs and his warm breath brushed the nape of her neck with a kiss.

"And I you," he whispered, even though there was no one else around to hear him but her. His lips trailed the natural curve from her neck to her shoulder, infused with a sudden burst of very human passion. Instinctively Sophie let her head move gently to the opposite side, giving him better access as he elicited a combination of a sigh and a gasp from her by taking an extra moment to suckle the juncture at her throat and her collarbone.

"Howl, Howl," she somehow managed to reclaim her voice in the midst of her pulse hammering and the flush she felt and he paused in his administrations to glance at her questioningly.

"Is something wrong, Sophie?" he asked, suddenly worried he had gotten even a little carried away.

"No, it's just...can we just look at the stars for now? It's so beautiful tonight. I doubt we'll see many things so lovely," she smiled softly, and a little sheepishly. Howl's face eased a bit, shirking his worry and drawing her closer to him if possible.

"Of course, love, but you know, the problem there, when I look at you, I know I'll never see anyone more beautiful, or anything," he admitted, resting his chin lightly on the crown of her head. To this, she simply laughed a little and playfully batted at his arm, uselessly, but with every intent of teasing him.

"What _is_ beautiful?" she challenged in an almost detached manner, almost rhetorical. So he let it go unanswered and just settled against the railing as she leaned into him, watching the stars. They were beautiful tonight after all.

* * *

The later hours of that night had Sophie sitting at the window seat in the kitchen, watching the ground pass below them absently. Her hands played restlessly with an odd part of her dress that wouldn't lay flat and she scarcely noticed the sigh that escaped her own lips. Something was bothering her and she didn't even know what, and maybe that was the most frustrating part of it all. It was definitely _something_ though and she had a feeling it was impending which did nothing to lighten her somewhat omniscient worry of late. A wheeze sounded from her lower right, bringing her away from her reverie and a slight smile crept onto her face as she bent down to scratch behind Heen's ears, her amusement showing more perceptibly when he lightly thumped his tail against the floorboards. Lifting an index finger, she shushed him for fear of waking anyone else though.

"Can't go around robbing everyone else of sleep just because we can't," she reasoned lightly and sighed yet again, settling back against the wall, the sky moving out in front of her through the window like a sea of indigo ripples and gray-blue clouds. As no one else was awake—and as Heen had no sense of time at all—it wasn't certain what time her eyes closed for the night, but close they did, her left arm at her side, resting on the window seat's cushiony surface, right arm draped carelessly across her middle. And this is how he found her the next morning.

_I don't think she can possibly be comfortable like that_, Howl mused to himself, a mixture of the slightest concern and the greatest love moving in him now. He did wonder at why she had not slept in her room, but this was not the first time she had fallen asleep somewhere not including a bed and this was not the first time he had found her as such. Almost, he did not mind that she seldom found her way back to her room; watching her sleep with such a peaceful expression filled him with some sensation he could not name, but it was a good one—it might have been contentment. If she had grown in their experiences together even a little, he had grown tenfold since his heart was restored to him. He still had the quirks of a child, but they were more often now just those ones he himself wanted to hold onto, rather than things out of his control.

Sophie chose this moment, it seemed, to shift in her sleep, a soft sound escaping her, a murmur perhaps. At this, Howl moved to her side, placing his hand over hers and, a thought occurring to him, bent down to kiss her. Almost subconsciously, Sophie responded, welcoming his lips with hers and by the time she was fully awake Howl was sitting in front of her, arms on either side of her, pinning her somewhat to where she now sat. When they broke apart, Sophie noted a distinct glow about Howl that seemed to start in his eyes and radiate deep within him somewhere and smiled.

"Morning, you" she greeted amicably and he chuckled, the vibration of it resonating through his chest that made it feel almost like a purring sensation to Sophie. Of late Howl had been finding himself more and more attracted to the young hat maker. He suspected, personally, that this was because he had at first only been drawn to her spirit, not that that was something to be "only" about. It was after all, Sophie's spirit, that set her so far ahead and above every other girl he had ever even thought about seeing. Still, that had left much room and since she returned him his heart, many months to grow to love her—yes, he definitely loved her, was in love with her even—for that spirit, and her practicality and her seemingly unflappable kindness.

Of course, during their initial adventures he had looked in on her sleeping, not the least surprised that she had actually been a young girl who was cursed and accepted that. But truth be known, she was most of the time in the form of a 90 year old woman, and while that was fine because he still found himself ridiculously in love with the dear hat maker, it did have its effects, such as setbacks. Setbacks like Howl only now—a few months later—beginning to acknowledge fully his attraction for her, and as it had been delayed, he felt this to be part of the reason it was so...prominent.

And now that he did, and he did very much so, he found himself needing to express that more and more and in deeper and deeper ways, sometimes ways he felt that really could only be translated through physical means. Of course he never pushed anything upon her, he would not dare, too fearful of losing what was perhaps the best part about his life now. Still, not pushing didn't make it any easier to ignore that their experiences in the not so distant past had matured Sophie too, the shorter hair framed her face better and the starlight hue gave her fair skin that moonlit quality 24/7. And her eyes.

It was funny, she would go on about his eyes sometimes, how she was sure that it was through them he was able to—in the past—steal so many young ladies' hearts. But it was hers that he was fascinated with. Once he told her this and she practically laughed out loud, actually, she did. As he recalled, it had happened something like this:

"Come now, Howl, be serious. My eyes? They're brown!" she exclaimed, clearly amused but Howl noted an undertone of that old, somewhat withdrawn and very self-critical part of Sophie he sometimes forgot was still a part of her, different or no.

_"Hazel," he corrected kindly, "Hazel like winter wood, enduring and strong, beautiful at any time of year, Sophie...you're beautiful," he repeated those last words from when he had first shown her his "secret garden". Only this time, she did not shrink back into her shell depicted by the form of an old woman. This time Sophie could only blush slightly, which Howl thought secretly was becoming on her anyway, and she suddenly seemed to become extremely fascinated with the floor. _

_"I know you're too candid to just say that, but you understand I just don't see what you see," she finally said, in true Sophie fashion, quiet but appreciative even of what she did not fully comprehend. _

_"I know, but that's okay. That's why you have me," he stepped closer to her and tipped her chin up gently with his right hand, gently forcing eye-contact. "I am here," his words became a whisper only for her, "to remind you until you believe me and after that, I'll simply have more reasons to do things like this." Continuing to lightly hold her face towards him, he leant in to brush his lips ever so slightly against hers and even Sophie's self-consciousness could not stop the smile he felt in her lips against his._

That was about a month ago. It had been seven months or so since the Prince returned to his kingdom's palace and Howl himself had gotten his heart and Calcifer was finally free to do what he pleased—even though in the end, he stayed with the castle as it was. Sophie sensed something of Howl's newer desires but as she did not completely understand them, she had a hard time figuring out that she was having similar stirrings, if different in their ways of making themselves known. Still, she tried to accommodate him as best she could without causing discomfort to either of them.

"So what's on your schedule for today?" Sophie's eyes glimmered at him in such a way that Howl knew, if she could see that sparkle, she would finally really realize what he meant when he said he loved her eyes.

"Oh you know, I might just laze about all the hours of the day away," he said with a smirk that was not unkind but more mischievous, a trademark expression Sophie came to identify with his more playful side. Rolling her eyes, she made as if to push him off the window seat and putting a little more power into it than she had estimated, she actually did.

Now, if a Howl with reddish hair agonizing over his vanity is an interesting sight, a floored (literally) one with only a hint of what just happened to him dawning is even more so. She tried not to giggle, not to laugh and if she did, she tried her very best to stifle it. When Howl arched an elegant eyebrow at her as if to say: what's so funny, hm? She knew she hadn't quite maintained the silence.

"Well, that was unexpected," he remarked, unfazed as only Howl could be and Sophie just shook her head at him.

"That makes it so for two of us. I'm sorry, I did not mean to really push you so hard," she admitted with a bit of sheepishness and lifted her arms above her head, stretching like a cat.

"I guess this means I'm not to laze about all the hours of the day, then?" he drawled teasingly and Sophie simply threw a pillow from the seat at him, hitting him square in the face.

* * *

That afternoon found Howl in one of the new rooms he had added to the castle. It was stationary right now, sitting pretty in one of the many foothills that came before the Wastelands. Markl was outside in a nearby meadow with the former Witch of the Waste and Heen chasing butterflies, acting oddly his age. But it was a nice change. Sophie had given them the day off from chores she normally asked for help with—windows, sweeping, laundry, whatever—and she was in the kitchen area, sweeping.

"Got something on your mind, kid?" Calcifer asked in such a conversational tone that Sophie didn't read into his question at all before answering.

"Nothing to worry about Calcifer, just silly things," she tossed a quick smile at the fire demon and made her way upstairs, broom thumping behind her, before he could get another word in edgewise. She couldn't have been but five minutes out of the room when Markl, the Witch and Heen came barreling in. Rather, Markl barreled in after Heen and the Witch followed at a far more leisurely pace.

"Such energy," she mulled not unpleasantly and settled into her customary rocking chair as Heen sniffed around the room as he always did when he came back in from somewhere—as though he'd never been there before!

"Sophie!" Markl called, an excited tone to his voice and Sophie bent down, peering from above the stairs through the stairway railing down at him as he waved a basket of wildflowers rather, well, wildly about.

"Markl, they're wonderful," she said in appreciation, dusting her hands off on the white apron that had become a definitive part of her daily attire. Descending the stairs to kindly relieve Markl of the basket, she turned to fill a blue and white pitcher with water from the faucet. Just as she had just about finished arranging the wildflowers, a knock was heard on the door and in true Markl fashion, the young boy put on his old man guise.

"Standby," he said in his best old man voice, overly gruff with a boyish undertone, but it did the trick it seemed. Markl flicked the little notch on the door and it opened to reveal a messenger of sorts, clad in very official looking attire, gold tassels and all that jazz. He wasn't a bad looking fellow either, the Witch noted to herself in her childlike way that was ever-true to her old nature. "Um, how may I help you?" Markl asked, somewhat uncertain. This was not a familiar type of uniform and glancing both at the color of the section of the indicator on the wall and the greenery outside, apparently he had come from practically nowhere.

"Is this the residence of one Miss Sophie Hatter?" the young gentleman queried with a measured eloquence evident in his articulation.

"That would be me," Sophie stepped genially forward, bowing slightly "How can I help you?" At this point, the messenger coughed as people tend to do most often when they feel the need to act self-important (more so than to actually _be_ self-important, as they are surely different things) and pulled out another piece of paper, rolled and tied with a scarlet ribbon that shone like silk, which it probably was.

"One, Sophie Hatter is cordially invited to the Prince's Autumnal Gathering. Attire is formal and there is no fee. An escort or guest is allowed, but only one and the rest of the information including where and when is enclosed here," upon which the messenger gave a grand sweep of his hand, producing an antique-white envelope with a gold seal and red wax emblem in its center in the simple silhouette of a crown. Thrown off guard, Sophie somewhat robotically accepted the invitation and bowed again to the young man. She gathered her wits as Markl was showing him out just in time to get her feet to respond to her and dash to stop him before he was gone completely.

"Wait, I'm sorry, are you certain this is not an invitation for Master Howl?" she asked almost urgently, not even noticing her addition of the severe formality before Howl's name or that said wizard had been standing for some time at the midpoint on the staircase.

"I am certain, Miss Sophie. Attendance is all but required, I should tell you, and if you cannot come, please send word. Good day, Miss Sophie," the messenger tipped his hat and politely closed the door behind him, leaving a gaping Sophie and an over-enthused Markl and Heen dancing around her. The old Witch only smiled that old, somewhat sedate smile of hers, hands folded restfully on her lap.

"I, I don't understand," Sophie said to herself, staring at the envelope and running her fingers lightly over the seal.

"Something the matter, Sophie?" Howl's voice carried out before him as he came down all the way, a smile on his face that did not entirely meet his eyes.

"Uh, no, it's just, well, I..." Sophie fumbled desperately for her words and could not find them, settling for simply thrusting the invitation into Howl's hands and crossing her arms across her chest, as though to hold in her perplexity.

"Seems you're being quite honored," Howl said after smoothly splitting the envelope open on its seam, scanning the invite. "His Majesty still thinks very fondly of you," Howl added. "Perhaps I should not have this. It is more personal than your usual royal summons," and he returned said papers to a still somewhat stunned Sophie. Running his fingers through his hair very, very absently so as to not relay his perturbed state, Howl excused himself to his rooms and ascended the stairs once again.

"What's it say?" Markl asked, beaming and the old Witch smiled a little wider.

"Seems her true love has come back to claim what isn't his," the old woman remarked airily and Markl, confused just sat on the end of one of the benches at the table, waiting, Heen wheezing at his feet periodically.

-----------------------

Dearest Sophie,

_I am dreadfully sorry it has taken me so long to get things here in order. Stopping a war isn't as easy as I'd hoped! Still, this will be the first celebration since the dreadful wartime's end and I would be delighted if you would come. Oh, I'm being rude. I forget myself. To think, I'm a prince! I must thank you, my dear Sophie. If not for your constant kindness, I'd still be stuck in some bush in the foothills, your least favorite vegetable for the rest of time (or at least until something that did like Turnips came along!) I am glad to have shared in your adventures and to have been able to come home to put an end to this senseless war we had going on. I meant what I said though, when I told you that one can always be certain of hearts changing, and so, here I am in my palace. Okay, not exactly what I'd planned, not the romantic rogue sweeping you off to some faraway place from your abode, or whatnot. I'm afraid my responsibilities keep me from such lovely spontaneity. However, this Autumnal Gathering, or ball if you will, it is a wonderful opportunity for me to get to see you again. I do so hope you will come. It has been too long. And don't mind the formal address that came along with this invite. You may bring anyone you please, any number. Markl, even Heen if you like. Or Howl, if he is so inclined._

_Please come Sophie. I miss you very much._

_Love and thanks,_

_Your Prince_

-----------------------

Sophie did not wonder that Howl had retreated into his own keeping. She could feel the hurt and doubt creeping out from his rooms down stairs and straight into her own heart and shaking her head at him—though he was not right there with her—she set the invite on the table and went to him.

Knock, knock.

No answer.

Knock, knock.

Still no answer.

"Howl?" she spoke more to the door than through it and when she still received no answer, she ventured to open the door and step inside, closing it almost silently behind her. "Howl?" still nothing. And then a hand spun her around and had her pinned against the door. Sophie caught her breath. There he was, standing very, very close to her, eyes burning into hers in such a state of smoldering that she shuddered involuntarily. He didn't seem to notice.

"Are you going?" he asked, sounding strangely frantic. She tried to move him slightly but he would not be moved.

"Going? Howl, I—" she began, but could not finish as he closed the distance between them and kissed her like he would never get the chance again, not in small part because he feared there might be some truth in that. A slight moan escaped her lips and his kiss became even more urgent, asking, seeking...and Howl caught himself suddenly, pulling back.

"Are you going?" the question still stood, it seemed and Sophie, flustered from his assault on her mouth opened it, but nothing came out for a few moments and she then just closed her eyes for a moment, breathed, exhaled and paused, opening her eyes again to a very, very different Howl than she was used to. This Howl was more like the boy, more scared, more...lost even.

"I am," she began and Howl's head bent a little, his bangs falling into his eyes, almost acting as a shield to her and she frowned, tilting and turning his face with her hand back to her. "But, you are coming with me," she continued, "and Markl and old Witch and even Heen, we're all going." He stared at her for a moment, not really comprehending what she meant. Sophie suppressed a sigh. Heart back and maturing by the day or not, Howl could be more clueless than she sometimes and she did the only thing she was positive would settle him, even for the moment. Framing his face delicately with her hands, Sophie smiled up at him and drew him to her, closer if possible, kissing him with as much fervor as her heart could allow at that moment.

Almost Howl didn't respond but instances later he seemed to come back to himself, and back to her. Leaning in further, his arms still in a position that had her pinned to the door his arms began sliding more flatly against the door, nearly crushing her to him. Lost in a mixture of the want that had been plaguing him lately and an inherent part of his ego that still existed in him, the part that said he needed to claim her, Howl devoured her in just the way Sophie had heard girls squeal about back when she was still in the hat shop, distant from the magic and from, well, from life itself really. His lips nibbled mercilessly at her throat and her sigh became more of a moan that did nothing but encourage him, his hands tracing the contours of her sides almost subconsciously.

"I love you, Sophie Hatter," he confessed, breath somewhat ragged from their interaction. Arms now looped comfortably around his neck, her forehead resting against his, Sophie knew this was not the first time he had said he loved her, but felt it was the first time, somehow.

"I know," she said, a glimmer of a smile dancing on her lips, "And I love you, Howl, who swallowed a falling star."

* * *

Across the foothills, through and into the middle of the city, a young Prince sat brooding at a window as it rained and rained and rained, pattering against the pane. His well groomed blond locks were less curled now, falling straighter and it had been cut much shorter, all of it no longer than his longest bangs. Gold coins sat stacked neatly on a table at the end of the room and velvet red carpeting combined with the refined molding and gilded furniture for a truly royal setting, but despite the grandeur, said Prince sat, still brooding. His right hand clenched a very crumpled piece of paper and his left cradled his face. He was the picture of defeat without a fight.

"Something wrong, my Prince?" a voice too silky to be trusted asked without any ounce of real concern filtered across to his ears and he flinched visibly.

"You would know, wouldn't you?" he stated more than asked but still it had that lilt that gave it that solid question mark at the end, exhaling deeply and crossing his arms firmly.

"Now, now Prince, don't sulk like that. You'll get what you want no matter how this works out. Mmm, the Autumnal Gathering, convenient that you have one every year, isn't it? Not suspicious at all," the voice reasoned and he shook his head fiercely, a hard glint in his usually kind eyes.

"NO! That...this is not what I want…" he put his head in his hands again, "but I have no choice."

"That's right, Prince," the voice answered with unhidden malice and a very finely sculpted face appeared to his right, ruby lips painted to perfection and eyes as grey as rain. Long tapered fingers with well painted nails that matched the hue of her lips tapped the top of his chair lightly and she sighed with a hint of drama. "Don't sulk, my Prince. It does not become you at all."

The Prince shoved the chair away as he stood up, aiming to hit her with it even a little but he knew the outcome already. Her image simply went transparent and it went right through her before she completely rematerialized into solid form, a silent, sinister laugh lacing her mouth. One more look of utter disgust and he retreated into his private chamber, the one place she could not go, and sat at his own window, chin resting on his hands in a pondering position so severe, he could have been made of stone.

And still, it rained.

* * *

Um...so, what did you think? Reviews please. I've no idea what I'm doing. Frankly poetry is my thing usually and never fanfiction, but I adored this movie with all my soul. I know the characters aren't quite up to par but I'm not Miyazaki, so forgive my artistic license please... um...yes.

Um, thank you for reading, let me know if I should keep going or whatnot!

Sincerely,

-sofi (that's MY spelling, since it is my name, haha...course, when Howl's concerned I'd much rather be 'Sophie' from the movie! Ah, to dream.)

oh, p.s. I obviously didn't invent the characters or previous storyline or whatever, sorry I forgot this disclaimer at the beginning. I've seen them on other fics I've read though, so this is mine!


	2. Beautiful Charm: Chapter II

**Beautiful Charm, Chapter II :  
The Set-up and the Dress-up**

**

* * *

**

The rain never stopped around the palace anymore. Not since She had gotten there. And the Prince could hardly stand it, except that he had to. He could no sooner leave the palace than leave the country. As under Her control as he was, he was a better buffer zone between Her and his country than nothing at all. As little as it might be, he would do all he could to protect it...and protect her...his apparent true love who had freed him of his curse. Was it day or night outside? How close was the Autumnal Gathering? He had not even the vaguest of ideas.

This strange force of mischief biding Her time in his palace, in his kingdom, had somehow snuck across the Northern border and before he knew it, she had usurped him in a most inconspicuous fashion. She was a tall womanly being—though he doubted seriously her actual form was that of a human, much less a woman—with an hourglass shape and vicious red lips that seamlessly matched her curved fingernails. Her voice was like a sultry afternoon in a desert where she would be the only oasis and anyone unaware of her trickery would probably find her very appealing.

The Prince could barely stand to be in the same room as her.

She was using him and his palace after all, just to get to a wizard with the heart of a child. The Prince stared through the windowpane. And to get to the wizard She was willing to go through anyone in any way possible—specifically through Sophie to the extent of almost anything, short of death. He did not want that. It was true, he did think about her often and envy Howl for all that was clear in Sophie's eyes when they were together, but he harbored no conscious bitterness. If Howl was where her heart resided, he felt no urge to come between them. This thing, this She-demon of whatever strange magic had other plans though.

"Look at you. Useless," he brooded further and began to pace; according to his vague awareness, it was still night, or very, very early morning...thereabouts. The rain made it difficult to say. Some binding contract She had him under—he glanced at the crumpled paper on the floor at the foot of his bed—kept him from leaving, kept him from sending anyone who could give Sophie the smallest inkling of what was going on, of what they were to step into. _If I can't leave, I must do as much as I can the moment they set foot on the premises,_ he concluded for himself, and pondered all night, sketching plans and throwing them out—all in his head. It was too dangerous to actually solidify anything, to risk Her finding them and then finding him out. No, all this had to be internal—and even that place was not an entirely safe zone from Her prying ways. The damn thing didn't even have a name as far as he knew so he was forced by lack of means to think of her as a force which in some ways, he was certain weakened his resolve against her.

People always fear more what they cannot explain after all.

That peeve aside though, the Prince had a better plan of action now than he had been able to come up with since Her arrival and he decided resolutely to focus on it up until the very day itself, as it was the only feasible way he could conceive of saving the one he loved, _Even if she does not love me in return, even if she is in love with...with Howl,_ he thought sadly for a moment, but brushed it off with logic and a desire to protect. Some things were beyond self-pity and loss. Some things were about what was right. So thinking, he went over and locked his door. Not that the She-demon or She thing or whatever had tried to get in; he had a notion she was unable because of the severely powerful wards, but he did not press the subject with Her.

_Now to get these plans going,_ he settled and sat again at his window, seemingly watching the rain but really watching nothing external, seeing everything happen accordingly in his mind's eye. This continued for about five hours when finally, exhausted, the Prince's shoulders slumped and his chin rested on his chest, sleep claiming him for a better part of the day the followed.

* * *

On that same day, the morning light shifted in soft rivulets of warmth as Sophie turned in her covers, blinking awake slowly. Propping herself up on one arm, she used her free hand to rub the remains of sleep from her eyes, blinking again to shake the last of night off of her. Drawing her knees up to her, she held onto them, encircling them with her arms lightly and stifling a yawn.

"No more of that," she said absently to herself and with an almost inaudible sound of exertion, she pushed herself up and out of the covers, bare feet touching the cool of the wood floor. The door to her room shut behind her with a somewhat musical click and Sophie's ears didn't fail to notice that just about everything about the castle had a certain musicality to it. She wondered if Howl had meant it to be that way.

Making it downstairs, she paused at the foot of them, scanning the clean kitchen and eating area. What a difference from all those months back when she first hobbled in here, age 90 and aching. Freeing herself from her nostalgic lapse, she reached for her apron and dexterously looped it about her waist, securing it with a neat tie and then seeking out the griddle. Laughing to herself, she remembered the discussion it took her to actually get the previously missing kitchen paraphernalia into her hands. She'd practically had to beat it out of Howl who didn't seem to understand why a frying-pan would not work for that purpose.

Cracking three eggs on the side of a bowl, she whisked in some flour a little at a time and added milk and a pinch of vanilla. Probably she, Howl, Markl, Heen and even old Witch would've had to sustain themselves on bread, cheese and the occasional bacon or eggs if she hadn't insisted on adding certain useful kitchen utensils.

"Calcifer," she whispered, not wanting to disturb the friendly fire demon in case he was sleeping deeply. "Pssst, Calcifer," she tried again. _Too bad you can't effectively prod a flame_, she mused lightly as his two floating eyes seemed to pull themselves open to look at her drowsily. He made almost the sound of someone licking their dry lips except it was a fire so it had a crackle to it.

"Mmm, mornin' Sophie. What's that you've got there? Oh," Calcifer paused and finished, "breakfast?" Sophie nodded.

"If you wouldn't mind," she added. If Calcifer could effectively shrug, he would have but instead he grabbed himself a small, but substantial piece of wood from the pile Sophie had made sure was always there for him ever since she came into the Castle. Munching on its edges, he blinked at her.

"Well, you gonna cook with that?" he asked teasingly in a very Calcifer-manner and she nodded.

"Thanks Calcifer. Sorry to wake you," she said as she settled the griddle over him and whisked the batter a little more. Casting a glance at the spices they had, she took some cinnamon and threw it in, as well as a bit of sugar. No need for breakfast to be a dull affair, after all, she thought, mixing it all in until smooth and a thick consistency. A walk to the sink and back later proved the griddle ready as the water droplets Sophie threw on it danced back and forth, sizzling.

"Um, Sophie, you usin' those eggshells?" a hopeful voice came from underneath the griddle and Sophie nearly hit herself for being so forgetful. Of course.

"No, of course they're yours, here you go. Open up," she said and tossed in the eggshells one at a time as she poured even circles of batter onto the pan's surface. Footsteps pounded downward and Sophie was not at all surprised when Markl's voice reached her ears even as he hugged her.

"Morning Sophie!" he beamed, Heen circling at his heels, wheezing.

"My, you're both wide awake," she commented dryly and continued, "be careful Markl. Breakfast won't taste any good half cooked and on the floor...well, maybe for Heen," she amended and giggled slightly at the thought of Howl coming down only to discover breakfast had been incidentally and entirely served to the Sulliman's dog.

"Laughter, hm? Oh, breakfast," old Witch made her way to her seat and repeated as was her habit, "breakfast." It wasn't a question, which Sophie had come to understand these past few months; old Witch just repeated herself a lot.

Ten minutes, no more, later, most of the downstairs was eating, except Sophie. The hatter crept up the stairs to Howl's door and coughed a bit to make her presence known. When she did not hear anything she called out to him.

"Howl?" she questioned, somewhat reluctant to step into his room, remembering their last encounter there. Not that it had been unpleasant, much the opposite actually, but she was just a little afraid of stirrings in her she could not distinguish and so, she stayed on this side of the door. "Howl?" a little louder now. _Maybe I should knock_, she supposed and rapped the wood lightly with her fist. "Come now, Howl. Surely even you are awake by now," she mumbled, relenting and opening the door with some apprehension.

To her surprise and confusion, there was no one there.

Howl's room glowed with its gold trinkets and luminous green walls, some of its shinier gadgets winking in the light at her as she wandered further into it. _Where is he?_ Her hand resting on the footboard of his bed, she looked around, confused. Had she slept in so late as to miss him going out? Surely she would have heard him...the door downstairs shut loudly and she flinched, caught in a drifting point again in her mind. _I have to stop doing that,_ she thought briefly to herself and hurried out of Howl's room, very quietly closing the door behind her.

Sure enough, Howl was ruffling Markl's hair playfully even as she came down, and he smiled at her warmly, leaving his young apprentice to finish his breakfast in some semblance of peace.

"Good morning Sophie," he greeted, reaching up to her face and brushing a few strands of hair out of her eyes.

"Morning yourself," she returned, "breakfast?" she offered, slipping past him with a companion smile. Arching an eyebrow at her strictly friendly behavior, Howl deftly, but gently, plucked the spatula out of Sophie's hand and flipped all four hot cakes at once, a grin on his face that could clear storms. "Show-off," she rolled her eyes, amused and took the spatula back in time to move all the hot cakes to a plate, shove the plate into Howl's hands and then push the wizard himself to the table. "Eat," and she turned away, pouring some more discs of batter onto the still sizzling pan.

"I'm just glad all he did was flip them, if he'd been the one makin' the batter you'd all be starving," Calcifer remarked, to which Howl looked briefly over his shoulder, a forkful of golden hot cake in his mouth. Sophie stifled a laugh with the back of her free hand as she made one more batch, just in case they were extra hungry, not to mention she hadn't eaten any herself yet! That was quickly remedied in the next following moments.

* * *

Sophie shot a furtive stare at Howl as they walked through Kingsbury. It was not often that they ventured out to town together. Of course Sophie would go out every so often to get more sustenance for them or they would walk in the garden through the special port door Howl had given her a while back when she still was under the curse. This was a few and far between happening though and it wasn't even really for something Sophie wanted, more what Howl wanted to do for her. And it was sweet, really it was...but she had some questions, well, _a question_ really and it was taking up all of her thinking space.

So, if young women around her gazed a little too openly at Howl in appreciation or glared at her in some measure of jealousy, Sophie did not notice in the least. Howl noticed, but ignored them. He also noticed some—fewer than those cast his way, but a decent number—of admiring stares his companion was receiving, at which point he also ignored them but discreetly put his arm around Sophie's shoulders, much like he had during their first encounter as he had practically ushered her away from the guards.

"Howl, where were you this morning? I could've sworn if you ever left, I'd be able to hear it," she asked quietly, almost timid, some shadow of her former self making itself known. Stopping in the street altogether, Howl refrained from shaking his head and delicately used his hand to turn her face to him. He discerned an old fear in her and he did not want that.

"Sophie, you never have to fear asking me anything," he assured her, "Understand?" When she nodded, he offered her his arm instead of putting it back around her shoulders and she graciously accepted it. They walked to the crosswalk of the next intersection before he picked up where she left off. "I thought I sensed some mischief near one of the borders, so I went to check, but it was nothing," Howl said this all in such a matter-of-fact way, Sophie was almost certain he was trying to deter her from further inquisition, and on a more caring note, from further worry. So she let it pass for that moment and just held his arm a little closer to her. She would remember to inquire further, but later.

Howl paused in front of a small, neat shop the color of primrose. "What about here, Sophie?" he suggested and she fought back the urge to just sink into the ground. This was probably the kind of thing her younger sister Lettie would adore, but it still made Sophie feel awkward. "Sophie?" Howl waved his hand, concernedly in front of her face and she blinked rapidly.

"Uh, oh...alright," she tried to relax and stepped into the shop with him.

Dress-shopping.

Howl had explained to her earlier, very patiently too, how he could not make something from nothing, not something reliable anyway. Magic was tricky that way. Without the proper materialistic fibers, it could all come apart at a moment's notice, or no notice at all! He told her, a bit of a kind smirk playing on his lips, that while that may be fine for him alone, he would not want all the world to get to see what he saw, and at this, Sophie had blushed a furious shade of red she had no idea she was capable of, and nodded, her silence equal to her consent to go dress shopping for the Autumnal Gathering.

They went through four dress shops in total that day and probably more than forty dresses—pink (Sophie couldn't stand it on her, though she said for some reason it worked quite well on Howl who blithely ignored her teasing), printed (Howl decided it reminded him too much of the upholstery on Sulliman's chairs), white (Sophie had wrinkled her nose at this one, commenting that she looked ghostly in it or like she was going to bed and disappeared back behind the dressing curtain), blue, green, silver, gold, red, lace, brocade, velvet, silk...it all became a blur until the last one, as it would happen of course.

The last was a similar colour to the dress she had worn when she first met Howl in that back alley when he rescued her—and all of their adventure actually—but the material was of finer quality, silken but with less shine, a more demure touch to it. Its neckline was square, the thin straps neatly framing her upper torso, showing off her collar bones and the fairness of her skin. Fitted at the top with an empire waist rim of ribbon, one or two shades deeper than the dress itself and of a more silky fabric with more shine to accent, it flowed like water to the floor and Sophie had to admit, she liked it. Turning to one side, she had examined the back of it—or lack thereof—a little apprehensively. There really wasn't one. The fabric seemed to dip down into a deep sloping curve that ended nearly at the bottom of her lower back, showing a clean contour of a lot more skin than she was accustomed to showing. Shrugging to herself, she wondered if Howl would like this one.

"Don't you dare laugh," she warned Howl as she very reluctantly stepped out of the dressing room, gaze downward. Unfortunate place for it to be too because Howl's expression was quite special just then; if Sophie had looked up, she would have seen a face something between blown-away and extremely over appreciative and stunned too. Instead she folded her hands in front of her and raised her eyes slowly to his face which by then had been composed again, but the appreciative sparkle still glowed in his eyes—like magic.

"I'd be a fool to do such a thing," he said softly and Sophie's heart warmed. Her entire demeanor lightened noticeably too in the next instant and Howl asked, "What?"

"I like it too and that means no more dress shopping!" she exclaimed with an odd amount of glee unusual to see in her and Howl laughed. Of course, no wonder she had put up such a fight about doing this before. He sometimes forgot there had ever been a curse, as silly as it sounded. He forgot that when Sophie was at her bravest, at her most true and shining, her beauty and youth came through the curse, but at other times when she was most cowered or similarly feeling, she lost that. Howl understood only now in remembrance that Sophie probably still had residue or even more than that, of something self-depreciative in her nature, and so trying on pretty things would simply make her feel initially strange, awkward even. As he paid for the dress, he stole a glance at Sophie in his peripheral vision; she was as lovely as ever to him, always, all starlight, kind soul and knowing eyes. Timeless.

When they exited the shop, Howl took a moment to tenderly place a kiss on Sophie's forehead, a very loving, protective gesture that elicited a contented sigh from her, and he smiled.

He had been worried as soon as he heard the royal messenger knock on their door, remembering the Prince's promise to return and his theory on hearts changing. His worry of course, still sometimes came across as sullenness or something less sincere, but in this case, it was very much every fiber of sincerity he could muster. Sophie meant more than he had counted on, more than he had ever imagined anyone mattering. Perhaps it was because before her, he had never imagined caring about anyone else having been so far apart from others, always running. But he did not want to run anymore, not from Sophie. Rather the opposite. Howl wanted—he knew in his most courageous moments with himself—to spend the rest of his life with the great hearted soul beside him. Fearful of what saying something so life-changing to her would provoke though, Howl let this personal wish sit quietly in him until the messenger had come. That had nearly undone him, he noted to himself briefly, calling to mind his urgent questioning and rather...physical assault on the young hat maker.

"Howl?" it seemed a popular, one-word question mark for her lately, Sophie mused and gently tugged on his sleeve, childlike almost, but more loving. "Are you alright, Howl?" she reconstructed her question to be a little more specific.

"Whenever I am with you," he seemed to still be thinking to himself even as he spoke to her, "I feel as though I could be all right for the rest of my life." Sophie had no words to respond to this, and grasped haplessly for them anyway, standing at his side, looking frantic and also a little overwhelmed. Howl seemed to understand though and when she took his hand in hers he simply clasped it with his own and they made their way back to the door that would lead them back home.

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Alright, sort of fluffy but a little foreshadowing in there all the same. Sorry if this chapter was too uneventful...I went to see the movie again last night and was left with such an extremely wonderful soaring feeling that this is probably half-the product of those feelings, half the proper set-up for the rest of the story which my left brain tells me is necessary. 

Sooooo, you like? I know my grammar could be better but I'm working on it. I promise. I'm just accustomed to screenplays and poetry, not so much more novelistic style. It will improve over time though!

Review-ness? Yea, I know... I'm shameless, ah well.

smiles,  
-sofi


	3. Beautiful Charm: Chapter III

FIRST Notes: **BOLD** things are dream-sequence parts because to _italicize_ them would be confusing since I try to save _italicizing_ for individual's thoughts. And now, on with the show...please let me know what you think. One word, one line is much appreciated!

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**Beautiful Charm, Chapter III: Dreamscape **

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It was about a week until the Autumnal Gathering and Sophie could not sleep. Rather, she slept, but restlessly. Her dreams were more nightmarish lately than ever. She dreamt again of a war, of red flames and smoke that stifled the very essence of the earth, of death and a curse and her sleep was a deep one. This night, she turned fitfully, unconsciously clutching handfuls of bed sheet and almost, it seemed, crying.

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**In her dream she saw the palace burning, and she felt the brush of silken cloth and smelled the smoke of the flames, singing her throat dry and making her eyes water. Frantically, she turned from side to side, as though searching for someone and she suddenly realized she was looking for Markl, or old Witch, even Heen...and of course, Howl. **

**But Howl was not there, and neither was any one else. There were people of course, and they all ran around her still form, screaming, shouting, losing all manner of calm. **

**And then, as though she had blinked and missed something very important, Sophie found herself inexplicably running through the fiery corridors, ash and soot making awful smudges and burns on her gown—it was a gown she had finally realized, a familiar one with deep green ribbon and a floor length, flowing skirt—but she did not notice it beyond acknowledging that it was there. She stumbled, tripped, fell, winced. There was a short, deep gash on her right lower leg and a scrape that seemed to be beginning to bleed on her forearm but these things were all only just barely noticed. It seemed her main focus to just push herself painfully up off the floor and keep running, keep searching. **

**_What is this?_ Sophie wondered as she watched her dream unfold. _Where do I think I am going?_**

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Meanwhile, on the outside of her dreams, as she tossed in her eventful sleep, Sophie did not hear the door creak open to reveal two worried blue eyes. Howl had been checking in on her lately in her sleep, sensing her unrest and each time he would just watch until she settled into something resembling a more peaceful slumber_. The trouble with being a wizard is that you know too much sometimes, _he thought blithely to himself.

If he hadn't been aware of what he was in fact aware of concerning nightmares or dreams, he would have just woke the distressed girl. This night he actually ventured in past the border of the doorframe, something he had not done previous nights, and he sat on a chair next to her bed, much like she had once done for him after a rather melodramatic hair-colour changing fiasco. The moonlight shifted down on her form through the window's glass and Howl found to his dismay that Sophie was now trembling.

To wake her would be to risk her losing part of herself in the dream, he knew, because it had evident grips on her even now. But to leave her like this, it broke part of him. What could he do but take her hand in his own and scoot the chair closer to the bed so he could rest his head on the covers over her, listening to her racing heart? What else? He could think of nothing, but to wait.

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**Back inside her dream, Sophie had come to one of what she somehow knew was many outdoor courtyards in the palace grounds. There were flickering flames everywhere, debris still falling and scattering to all directions, some nicking her shins or hitting against her heeled shoes.**

**She was wearing heels?**

**What happened to her boots? Why was she so...and then before she could wonder further and figure out where and more importantly, When, she was, a hand grabbed her arm tightly. It was like a vice and as she let her eyes slowly, cautiously glance sideways, Sophie saw red nails, long curved like daggers and the same red as the fires. Lifting her gaze, she found herself facing a woman—well she didn't seem like a woman, but she looked like one—and she was not a happy looking one.**

"**You are in my way," the strange woman thing spat and Sophie cringed, trying to wrest herself away from the claw-like grasp, but failing. **

"**What are you talking about?" Sophie asked, confused, and also angry. "What is going on?" She quickly picked up her foot and brought it down hard on its heel on the woman thing's foot, taking that moment of distraction to dash down a hall to her left. "What is this?" she asked no one, running as fast as she could. She wanted to kick off her shoes but the questionable rubble everywhere kept her from doing so. The pain in her leg reminded her of the gash and she gritted her teeth. That would have to wait.**

**Rounding a corner, Sophie was horrified to come face to face with the woman-thing again. How...?**

"**You have no idea what you have in Howl, little girl. So either disappear from his life forever or stop running," her red lips left the unspoken just that, but Sophie had a feeling she knew what no more running meant this time—no more anything. Wait...Howl?**

"**Howl's not even here!" Sophie cried, a degree of vexation boiling up in her. "Just leave me alone!" she added and pushed her way past the demoness. Sophie didn't know how many corridors she made it down but without warning a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her in and a door closed. She was facing two very blue eyes framed with tousled, dirty, short hair. The face was smudged with smoke's soot from the fire and the man was worse for the wear, but...familiar? "Turnip-head?" she said out of habit and would have covered her mouth in shame but he did it for her, making a motion as if to say, "shhhh". So she did. **

"**Sophie," his whisper was the slightest she had ever heard...he sounded weak. Not just quiet. Sophie wanted to ask if he was hurt, but his hand over her mouth kept her from such things. "That thing out there, I am sorry. This is all my fault...if I had been stronger...Sophie I'm going to get you out of here. Just follow me and try not to make a sound okay?" She nodded wordlessly and followed his lead, creeping through an almost impenetrable darkness for an amount of time she was unable to discern. By the time they came out of the darkness, she was stunned to find herself at one of the three bridges that stemmed to the palace from the main surrounding city. She turned to him, opening her mouth to thank him but he shook his head.**

"**Don't, I've built up a reasonable shield from her, but you she could hear and find in an instant. I don't know how to say I'm sorry enough I—" he was cut off. Sophie had pushed him to one side, seeing something out of the corner of her eye and now for some strange reason she felt a stinging sensation and her legs didn't seem to want to hold her up anymore...and then Howl was there, cradling her. Howl? _When did he get here_, she wondered to herself just barely. She was getting cold...**

"**What is this? What have you done?" Howl seemed outraged and Sophie wanted to tell him it wasn't Turnip-head's fault but she couldn't get a sound out. **

"**I didn't mean for this to happen. I couldn't stop Her," and the Prince gestured wildly toward a direction Sophie could faintly hear a distinctly ghastly laugh coming from; it was more of a cackle really. **

"**Sophie, hang on okay? You're going to be fine," Howl looked down at her, and Sophie thought she could see stars in his eyes, like the night he met Calcifer, but her vision dimmed and the stinging sensation came back tenfold from before and she clenched her eyes shut before losing all awareness of everything but the smell of smoke.**

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A bird was chirping. Definitely a bird, a small one too by the high pitch Sophie was detecting. Shifting a little bit, she found herself confused by the weight on her chest as she blinked herself into consciousness. The weight on her chest shifted and it wasn't just blankets, she realized, biting her lip to keep from the surprised squeak she almost let out. Howl's hand had her own in a loving clasp but aside from that his head rested over her heart and his eyes were closed, a worried expression on his slumbering features. Her jumping pulse and heart softened at the sight a little. He must've known she was having a nightmare...but what about?

She couldn't seem to remember anything but smoke and pain and a feeling she suspected with some chagrin might be heartbreak.

"Oh Howl," she whispered to herself more than to the sleeping form and brought her right arm around to rest on his back, trailing up and down in comforting motions. It was almost as though by comforting him—whether he needed it or not—she was able to calm her own racing mind and worried soul. Even just in that moment. It was another hour before Howl stirred into the waking world, and when he opened his eyes he was surprised and pleased to find two hazel ones watching him.

"Sophie," he smiled and pulled himself up off of her. "Sorry, am I heavy?" he asked childishly and she shook her head.

"You were fine. I was glad to find you here. Thank you for protecting me," she added this last part very quietly. A more serious look gracing his refined visage, Howl seemed to pause thoughtfully for a moment before folding his hands on the edge of her bed, leaning in close to her and peering at her curiously.

"Sophie, what disturbs you so in your sleep?" he asked and Sophie gave him a sad half-smile.

"I wish I could tell you, but I can't seem to remember anything specific, anything telling," and then as an after thought she said, "but it might have been about the war. There was definitely smoke and a lot of pain."

"Are you certain you cannot remember anything else?" Howl seemed possibly more preoccupied with her nightmare than she, and Sophie turned on her bed to better face him, leaning on her elbows.

"Yes, and don't worry yourself either, my wonderful wizard," she tapped him on the nose as though her were an insolent child, but the gentle smile in her eyes and on her lips told him she was teasing.

"I shall worry whenever and however I see fit," he assuaged and placed a fast and tender kiss on her mouth before winking at her and easing out of the room. Sophie shook her head, sliding out from underneath her covers to get dressed for the day, her nightmare still nagging at the back of her mind like shattered glass left unswept on the floor.

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LAST NOTES: I shortened this one because I wasn't sure if I was making chapters too long, but hey...I don't know! Let me know though if you have time. Even though I did do that Howl x Sophie one-shot, this is still my first fic, perhaps better to say my first lengthy fic now that I have done "Such Great Heights." Again, your comments are most welcome. All my thanks to those already having reviewed! As a beginner, they mean the world to me.

-sofi


	4. Beautiful Charm: Chapter IV

**Reminder: bold means Sophie's dreaming/in her dream. THANK YOU to all reviewers and those who just take the time to scan my story. I appreciate it. I've a longer thank-you at the bottom of this monster chapter if you want to take a look. **

**Good thoughts, and hopefully good reading!**

**-sofi**

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**Beautiful Charm  
**_Chapter IV: Old-fashioned Fear_

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The Prince, it was rumored, was a good man. When he had gone missing and the war arose out of something nightmarish and very human, his kingdom panicked and this was perhaps the first time he understood what he was: a symbol above all else, a banner that must be proudly flown high above for all to see, of peace and prosperity. He supposed this was the same role for any monarch, but could not help the slight bitterness. It was not for his people though, oh no. He was raised beyond that petty character fall-back of a reason. That his people depended on him was natural by the system in which they had all been raised, one of ruler and subject. Subjects subjected so long as the ruler ruled with even hands and an open mind—or a fair one, whichever seemed more appropriate. 

Now, aware of Her 24/7, the Prince felt himself to be the very least of good men, if he could even fall into that category at all any more. He stifled an empty laugh. Walking from his bathroom to the window he paused in front of his full-length mirror. It had a sort of Alice-in-Wonderland quality to it with its long oval shape and refined metal working as the frame that held it, tarnished brass. There was a single almost elegant slice through part of it, dividing his face in a slanted manner that reflected back in mocking fashion at him. He looked, for lack of better words or any soft-peddling, run down. His blond hair was sticking in all sorts of directions it really, really shouldn't, his blue collared shirt had so many wrinkles that the cotton looked like crinoline and his black trousers had so many white chalk marks that he was certain they would come out an awkward shade of gray the next time he decided to wash them. The dark colors seemed a sharp flipside to the rather foppish—and he would be the first to admit exactly how foppish—attire he was wearing when his curse was lifted.

Even in a time like this, even with Her lurking God only knew where (but certainly near), the Prince cracked a half-hearted reminiscent smile at that. That awful yellowish suit practically matched his hair and his hair..._how vain am I_? He wondered, the back of his mind seeming to recall a certain wizard being similarly afflicted. _To think of such things. Indeed. At such a time._ He scolded himself since no one else would dare. He was after all, the Prince. Sighing, he frowned. The letter he had written to Sophie was not a lie. He did miss her, almost to a point of depression at times and definite longing. Her courage, her brightness, these were things he had been acutely aware of even as a Turnip-head. At the end of that particular adventure though, he had been also very aware of the way her short, silvery hair framed her face in such a way that became her fair skin, like reflective glass juxtaposed to creamy porcelain.

_I did not lie_, he reasoned, but also finished: _I did not tell her the truth though either_. He rubbed his temples, as though to massage his self-loathing and concern for the young heroine away in slow, methodical circles, but it hardly even relieved him of his physical nuisance, much less his mental. The strange evil, the mischief he could only call Her or She had cursed—he seemed to have bad luck with those—the parchment and he could only say the most necessary and light-hearted of things to Sophie in that letter. Just enough to make sure she came to the "Autumnal Gathering", the Prince grimaced. That was the last place he wanted Sophie to be.

Sophie, Sophie who he owed practically, his life to. And here he was, inviting her to something that could mean the end of her own.

But the Prince was, as said before, rumored to be a good man, and as things will have it, some rumors come from truths. This was one. Not idle, not spineless, not even clueless, the Prince had been working on various possibilities of rescue for his own savior, or at least protection for her from...the evil. He scowled. The woman-devil-demon thing didn't even have a proper name and she could cause all this havoc without breaking a sweat, all for the attentions of Howl.

_Howl_. Bitterness resurfaced, if slightly.

The Prince was well aware of the hat maker and the wizard and their...relationship and while he did want Sophie to be happy, he would be a dead liar if he said it didn't hurt to think of her with someone else. He thought back to his curse: ..._only lifted by the kiss of one's true love._ _One's true love. _He did let his empty laugh out this time_. One indeed. It was one's, inherently, not belonging to two. _Love her as he may, she did not, he knew, love him in that same way and while he had meant it when he said hearts change, he had said it more desperately for the sole reason of planting an idea in her head for even the remote possibility of ever considering him, already knowing her heart belonged to Howl anyway.

Some might argue he barely spoke to her, since as Turnip head he could not speak at all. Some might say, one cannot love or fall in love or be in love with such circumstances as they had. Some would say such things.

But that some probably have never been in love.

The Prince thought back to his letter again. If they did come, and he was certain they would out of decorum and out of kindness, not in that order either, he had at this point figured two almost sure-fire ways to protect them a little, or buy time. They were equivalent in nature as far as he was concerned. Already he could smell the sulfur of his palace burning and he clenched his eyes shut against the premonition-like sensory. _No, there's always a way around things. I will not see this kingdom fall apart again_, he fought his doubts and fears internally, pacing absently.

_I will not see her get hurt_, he thought softly and paused at his window. _Still raining_. He needn't have looked to know that, but look he did, and for a long time too. Some part of him was remembering a sunlit field of sloping hills, and a bold young girl in a bolder old woman's body, yanking him out of a rather uncomfortable bush. That part of him was clinging to the sunshine on that day to a point of blocking out the endless rain and for the moment, the Prince was content to let himself recuperate there shortly. Such kind thoughts were few and far between these days. Probably it was sunny beyond the whatever by whatever radius of rain surrounding the palace grounds. Probably Howl and Sophie were out and about.

Again, bitterness! He smothered it with a withering and somber admittance: if Sophie had fallen in love with him for some inexplicable reason, she would have been here when She—the evil one—arrived and probably already be dead.

As such, the bitterness quenched itself on his elated feeling that she was not there, and therefore, not dead. If being with Howl made her safer, then by all means, that was where he wanted her to be. Even if it did twist his insides in a more painful way than the most classic of medieval tortures.

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"Dratted dust," Sophie sneezed as she mopped it all up with a damp cloth furiously, practically rubbing the finish off the wood. Howl watched her through hooded eyes. She'd been like that for days now.

He thought about inquiring, about asking her if she wanted to talk, but he had learned very quickly that usually if Sophie wished to talk, she did so quite openly with him. So thinking, he maintained the silence, perched at the top of the stairs, observing her through the wooden railing of the staircase. She was now meticulously rearranging the pots and pans and vases and other nameless whatnot that cluttered the kitchen beyond recognition. She also continued to mumble to herself. The curve of Howl's lips turned down ever so slightly; what could bother her so? _It's probably to do with that dream_ _she's been having_, he figured to himself and tapped his fingers absently on the floor.

Meanwhile, Sophie's line of thought was not far from that point. _Why can't I shake this off? _Her wondering and perplexed obsession over her nightmare was getting to be a daily disruption in her life and she loathed it. _Why should a dream cause such nonsense feelings, _she scowled darkly to herself and scrubbed a particularly tarnished dishware until her reflection winked solidly back at her. Sophie stifled the brooding tonality of her perspective. That would get her nowhere after all. A pause in her work followed by a sigh and an almost imperceptible turn of her head calmed her decently enough and she untied her apron, tossing it over the back of one of the dining table chairs. As she turned to look around, Howl moved slightly out of sight, just enough that he could still see her and not the reverse. Seemingly satisfied, Sophie dusted her hands off—even though she had just washed them—and grabbed her hat, switching the dial to the pinkish reddish one and exiting the castle with a soft click of the door.

_Strange...where is she going?_ Howl went to stand and follow her but ended up jumping instead as a loud wheeze interrupted his mulling, and he eyed Heen with a bit of reserved annoyance. Shrugging it off, he ruffled the dogs fur a little, scratching him briefly behind his ears before descending the stairs in a hurried fashion, sprinting out the door to see if he could catch onto Sophie's trail, wherever she was headed.

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The sky was very blue, so blue it seemed to disappear into the crystalline surface of the water. Howl wondered at its fortune at having been spared the devastation of the war, by some helped luck and scanned the area, just catching a glimpse of the straw hat disappearing behind a sloping hill. His footsteps were cushioned against the green of the lush grass and the flowerets seemed to part under him, protecting their small lives without indignation.

"Sophie," he called.

"I figured you were there," she smiled, turning to gaze at him over her shoulder and sighing. Removing her hat, she moved to face him completely, looking up at him from her spot at the base of the knoll. "Those stairs are old Howl. They creak something awful." His lips tugged gently upward.

"Are you saying my castle is in disrepair?" he challenged with a lightness he did not feel, Sophie's dream still at the forefront of his mind's worry. He couldn't remember the last time he had really felt _worry_, not before her. It seemed that maybe he hadn't worried before her at all. He didn't doubt it in a way.

"I'm saying you're as stealthy as Heen," she replied smoothly and her back was to him again as she stared out across the glassy water, watching the breathy clouds drift by on lines of rippling liquid. Practically gliding down the remainder of the hill in little to no time, Howl settled beside her on the ground; he knew she felt less cornered when he sat. He didn't much like to think that she felt cornered by him at all really, but he knew it happened sometimes, often through no real fault of his own. It was simply a part of who she was. In his head he added it up to her almost handicapping combination of concern for the well-being of others and vaguely disquieting uncertainty, but said none of this. For a while—and neither was sure just how long or short a while it was—he just watched the watery sky, Sophie at his right, standing as still as time.

"I do not mean to worry you," she admitted softly, bringing her hand to rest in feather-light fashion on his shoulder. In response, Howl simply turned his head to her hand, pressing upon it the most delicate of kisses. And Sophie seemed to release the shields of protection from around her with an exhale that was the colorless sound of summer breeze, bringing herself down to sit and lean against Howl's shoulder.

"What troubles you?" he asked, twirling a periwinkle floweret between his thumb and forefinger.

"Just bad dreams, nothing really," she answered in a tone that sounded lame even to herself and Howl chuckled at her a little.

" 'Nothing' doesn't weigh on a heart like that. You should know. You've had yours longer than I have mine," his smile was gentle as he tucked the flower behind Sophie's ear.

"Howl, I need you to know that I love you," she finally decided upon saying and Howl's face could not have been more surprised if he had planned and acted it out as such—and he was a good actor after all these years of masquerading as the brave Pendragon over the role of rather cowardly Howl Jenkins.

"Sophie, Sophie love, I know that," he went to draw her closer to him but she stiffened, her spine going a little rigid at the advance and hurt, but compliant, he halted.

"No, Howl. I feel something bad is to happen and I need you to really know, no matter what, no matter why or...or...anything, I love you completely," her words would have been lost to anyone who had not been listening so closely for them. There was such an intensely soft and almost lost quality to her voice that Howl's hurt from moment's before melted away nearly entirely.

"You know something?" his question was so simple. She turned her gaze in his direction uncertainly. "I love you," he smiled disarmingly and drew her to him, relieved to feel her tension dissolve as she settled into the curve of his arms. Resting his chin on her head lightly, he added thoughtfully, "And I'm not running anymore, Sophie, if you will recall." She shifted in his embrace, but did not pull away.

"Something tells me maybe you should, this time," she forced each word out painfully, almost nauseated at how horrible the idea of Howl's absence from her life made her feel.

"You don't know everything, love," Howl said calmly, not the least unnerved by her worried and charged statement. "A dream is a dream. I did not stay a cursed monster. I gained a heart and a reason to have it, which was in no way any of the dreams you had in my castle at that time, I am sure," his words were to soothe her. Sophie held one of his hands in both of hers, absently tracing the lines on his palm.

"Who made you so wise, Howl Jenkins?" It was practically accusatory. "What became of the drama-queen—" she was cut off here:

"Drama-king," Howl corrected, not missing a beat, and she waved a dismissive hand, dropping his into her lap.

"—whatever. What happened to the frivolous, terrified-of-his-teacher, obsessed-with-his-looks wizard of so many names? Where is he?" she almost sounded wistful.

"I am here, I promise," was his jocular response as he continued to say, "I swear to you, Sophie Hatter that underneath my fine words and desire to soothe you is still some hint of all you have just inquired about...the difference is all in a heart. And it seems it was gone the moment I got it back. You've got it now, you know," this last part was very quiet.

"So you know that I love you, then?" back to that_. My, she's persistent, _Howl smiled inside. He adored her for it, undoubtedly.

"I know," he affirmed.

"And you...you love me," she faltered and he frowned, refraining from rolling his eyes only by the grace of good luck.

"Goodness Sophie, yes. Now shut up and let me kiss you," he ordered and without waiting, turned her face with his hand swiftly to him, bringing his lips down onto hers. The surrounding flora seemed to bend away from the engrossed couple. Whether out of courtesy or otherwise, only they knew.

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Sophie's eyes flickered open as she brought a hand up to shield them from the incurring daylight. Noting the warm softness behind her, she remembered she was not alone and slowed her stirring. Letting her eyes wander over her shoulder, her lips curved upward subtly. _Sleeping like a baby_, she thought as she shook her head ever-so slightly. They had, after their...romantic interlude...both decided it would not hurt either of them to pay their tributes to the sun by taking grace in its warmth for the most innocent of catnaps. Said catnap had turned into about three hours of undisturbed slumber, but it mattered little. For today, Sophie wanted to feel—even if she knew better—that they had all the time in the world. Just today.

Turning over onto her side and facing her Howl—yes, _her_ Howl—she marveled at the fact that less than a year ago this same man was no more than a faceless, skirt-chasing magic-maker who had, rumor said, a moving castle...among other things. How things change. Howl had, in the recent months, let his bangs go and his hair was much like it was the very first time she had ever laid eyes upon him with her fast-beating heart. Of course, it was black now, but this did little to change his charming appearance; if anything, it made him more so himself, she felt personally.

She knew it to be a useless gesture, but reached out a hand to tuck a few more rebellious strands of his hair behind his ear. It occurred to her that this seemed the sort of thing only a man would do, and shrugged it off. Howl's hair was at this point, longer than her own and called for more attention. He shifted in his sleep, lips parting slightly in that pre-wakening slumber stage and Sophie felt her heart pound like it had that first day. She never knew love, not really. She had always known duty, and responsibility and reason, also strength even...but not love. Yes, she cared for her sister and family, very much, but it was the events and escapades caused by a single encounter with a flamboyant and outlandish wizard that sparked in her something that brought her soul to another level of compassion.

"I love you," her whisper trailed off her lips and wrapped themselves around her object of affection like a blanket that kept out the cold. Howl shifted again and seemed to nestle deeper into the lushness of the grass and to Sophie's surprise, his eyes peered at her suddenly through his uneven wisps of hair, slightly hooded with the remains of sleep. Without a word, he propped himself drowsily up on his elbow and with his free hand delicately took hers from where it lay docilely in front of her. She tilted her head to one side in question and Howl simply brought her open palm to his lips in response, letting his kiss linger as only a lover might. Sophie's blush was picked up by some of the smaller flowers in the garden, pinkish and endearing.

"Those are nice words to wake up to," he said finally, releasing her hand from his lips but not from his gentle hold.

"I imagine they're a great deal better than me sending Heen to rouse you," Sophie admitted as what she had said was one of her "meaner tactics" according to Howl who did not much appreciate the wheezing breath of the dog to be his first conscious note of the day.

"Quite right," he quipped, and continued, "Your voice is a lot nicer than Sulliman's dog's."

"I can only hope as much," she returned and he laughed.

"What would I be without you?" it was said in his laugh but without any hint of lightness.

"We don't have to worry about it either way," she said simply and pulled herself up off the grass completely, stretching before she pushed herself off of the ground. Turning to the still reclining wizard, she crossed her arms over herself and looked off to the blue horizon, as though considering something. Howl waited. He knew enough—sometimes at least—to be quiet. "Thank you," Sophie's final choice of words could not have been more confounding to him as his blue eyes flashed incomprehensibly.

"Forgive me, love, but what for?" he asked, face blank as he too pulled himself up off the soft bed of now thoroughly flattened grass to stand, facing her, less than a foot between them.

"Sometimes," she paused but pushed herself onward, "Sometimes, sometimes I imagine what life would have been like if I had never met you and it hurts," her hand unconsciously was clenched very tightly over her heart as she continued, "If, if this had never been...I don't know what I want to say yet, but for now, I just wanted to thank you, Howl," his name almost disappeared before she said it, but not quite. He drew her closer to him, arms encircling her shoulders and as though a puzzle piece, she let her head rest easily against his chest.

"Then, thank you too, Sophie," he said only those words and somehow Sophie felt the discussion or babble or ramble or whatever it was, was over for now and let herself be led back to the castle, sunlit breeze billowing the clouds out like frothy stars above them.

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That night, Sophie eased the door to Howl's room open just a little more than an inch's worth and did her very best to memorize his sleeping perfection, all moonlit and unawares. Mentally she traced the outline of his jaw with her fingers, stroked the soft tendrils of his hair into some semblance of parted order, kissed his lips lightly and briefly...but she did not dare actualize her thoughts. She might wake him and that could not be. It snapped a piece of her inside to turn away from him and close the door, but she did and softly crept toward the door of the house, switching it to the color that led to Kingsbury. Hand on the knob, she was about to exit when a timid shuffle nearly had her jump out of her skin. She turned, worried it would be the beautiful, blue-eyed wizard. A sigh of relief escaped her. It was only Markl.

"Markl, what is it?" she did not let her voice rise above barely audible. Markl moved closer to her, and to the door.

"Where are you going, Sophie?" his voice was drowsy and she suspected he had just come down for a glass of water, if anything, and accidentally stumbled upon her in the midst of her attempted-midnight run.

"N-nowhere, Markl. Here, let me get you a glass of water...or would you rather it be warm milk? It won't take long," she hoped to bury the recent memory of her standing poised to leave them with words, lots of them.

"Mmm...water's fine," he mumbled, rubbing dry sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hands. As she got him his water, Sophie's resolve faltered and backed off completely by the time she was ushering the small boy back to his room, fearful he might sleep-fall down the stairs without assistance. _I cannot leave tonight_...she thought stubbornly. _Tomorrow_. Her hands wrung a corner of her skirts into a severely twisted lump of cloth as she took seat at the window as she had done many nights before and leaned against the curve of the wall. Its cold comforted her somehow, bringing her closer to awareness of what might be done to prevent her nightmares from becoming real. It was however, difficult to prevent something one could not even properly entirely remember. She could go on little but instinct and luck—_brilliant Sophie_, she rolled her eyes at herself. Much too soon after that, her head had lolled to one side, her breathing evened and her hands gone limp with fatigue that had consumed her lately—anyone with a decent degree of scrutiny could assess as much.

**In her dream, it was different this time. Was she being talked to? **

"**Don't come."**

_**Come where?**_

"**Don't go."**

_**I'm not leaving. Am I?**_

"**I can't protect you!"**

_**Who are you to protect me!**_

"**Please, Sophie, I—"**

**And there it was, that acrid smoke burning her lungs from the inside, stinging tears out of her and that terrible feeling of hopelessness. But there were no flames, only the smoke and someone had been speaking to her through it...but it sounded like nothing now. Had he been interrupted? Hurt? Sophie's eyes widened at the thought. She did not want him to be hurt! Wait...him? Who was "him"? Why did his voice seem familiar? How did she even know him? **

**Her head ached severely and she got the distinct and unsettling feeling she was missing something key to the whole enigma of this ever-changing and discouraging nightmare.**

**And suddenly the voice was back in a frighteningly weakened state:**

"**Sophie, I love you..." and the voice, it died away in a catch of shaky breath that could very well have been a gasp of pain.**

Her eyes shot open, her breathing ragged and her palms sweaty. She glanced through the window at the rising sun. It felt like she had not slept even five minutes and she groaned. _Who was that? _She wondered at the strangeness of it all and flinched as she moved; sleeping against a wall certainly was not helpful to her neck and it was making its grievances known rather obnoxiously. Her neck and back seemed to crack in a similar fashion to when she was cursed and she brought her hand to the back of her neck to try and work out a couple kinks as she rose from the window seat to make some tea. She hoped Calcifer would not begrudge her waking him at dawn, but she needed something to calm her nerves.

She hadn't left like she had planned, hadn't left to go to the palace by herself and try and figure out why she dreamt of its destruction and the eeriness that lay itself like a smothering cloth over the land of late. Little by little she had begun to remember parts—only parts—of her dreams and they scared her for the safety of those she now lived with. Her plan had been to disappear at night and be back by morning after doing some snooping but it occurred to her now, in daylight hours, how silly and impulsive that had been. Surely it was much more conspicuous to poke around at night alone rather than in a constant crowd of outgoing and ingoing peoples. She mentally thanked Markl's accidental run-in with her, thanked Markl and did her best to shrug off her most recent nightmare off like the sun shrugged off the night itself.

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Sorry if this was a slow chapter. I figured we needed some more background on the prince though and his sort of person-type because if left undefined it could make for some real trouble when action starts going on everywhere. Sophie needed to be deepened and small perplexities had to be added up. Again, sorry. I hope someone still finds it decently enjoyable. if not, I can try my hand at another story. Do let me know though, if you've a moment. A word of encouragement is always helpful to slay such things as writer's block and in the midst of my work and school prep and such I tend to forget about things like this fic. (hence the update time wait, sorry again. But the reviews I have set to be e-mailed t me now automatically, didn't know that was an option! So any review will be a reminder for me on a daily basis and I'll try to update accordingly) 

**THANK YOU SOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH, everyone who has reviewed for me thus far. I find all your comments helpful and encouraging. My teachers tend to dislike my writing, so it's nice to find someone or some ones who even SORT OF like it, and some who I guess, according to their words, really do like it. I was surprised anyone liked this at all, but very pleasantly so. Thank you so much. It means a lot to me. Most said longer is preferred, so I am not too afraid anymore to write them as they come. The previous one was actually just cut from the beginning of this one...haha...for now this will have to do though. I guess all in all, some will be shorter, others longer, varying depending on whatever else is happening. **

**We shall see, yes?**

**:smile:**

-sofi


	5. Beautiful Charm: Chapter V

**Apologies for the shortness. The next one will be longer. Hope it's okay regardless of the length. For most purposes, this is basically so things make some semblance of sense in the upcoming chapter, which I'm already half way through! **

**Thank you for your kind reviews. They mean a lot to me.**

**-sofi**

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**Beautiful Charm  
**_Chapter V: A Multitude of Concerns_

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Markl sat at the eating table, seemingly minding his own business, on occasion returning some clever retort at the fire demon behind him whenever Calcifer decided to be testy for no reason, which was often. Really though, really, out of the corner of his eye, he had been watching Sophie. She had stopped folding laundry ages ago it seemed and was now, Markl supposed without really noticing it herself, staring eerily out the window. And she was not looking at the town, but at the sky with its twilight of purples and sea-shell pinks. He wanted to voice his concern but was wary of it. Sophie was like a mom to him, or at least an older sister. Someone who looked out for him, but not just him, for old witch and Heen and Calcifer and of course, for Howl. Markl especially liked her for that. Not just anyone could put up with his master like she did. He knew better than anyone else probably! Since he regarded her like that though, his childlike side—since he was in essence, a child behind all that composed apprenticeship type behavior—did not want to know too much, did not want to see her vulnerability. His grownup side thought this feeling to be weak and stupid, but Sophie unwittingly coerced his childishness to be more present than his grownup side.

"Sophie, are you okay?" perfectly respectable question.

"I was just thinking about tomorrow," she said almost like she wasn't there at all and Markl suppressed a fear that clambered to rise into his throat.

"The Autumnal Gathering, right? It'll be fun, don't you think so Sophie?" Keep it light, he told himself. She turned and offered a weak smile that made him want to bury his face against her skirts like when he told her he wanted them to be a family, that made him want her to ruffle his hair and tell him it would all be okay.

"Yes, Markl. I hope so," and she went back to staring out the window and Markl could not bring himself to ask anything further. He excused himself to his room.

It was not as dirty as it could get. Not since Sophie moved in with them. It was however, still dirty, no doubt about it. Clothes lay about over his chair and his bed and anything else that could have something slung over it. Spell books and various satchels and other magic learning stuffs poked out of every crevice and niche in the room from floor to ceiling. Scattered throughout, there were unrecognizable objects that Markl himself couldn't rightly remember the identity of and as such, just left them where they were hoping he would one day recall their purpose—if they had one.

He plopped down on the edge of his bead and it sighed beneath him. The door nudged open followed by a distinctive wheeze and Markl laughed gratefully as Heen toppled him over, sniffing him like they'd never met before. The dog turned out to be one of his greatest delights, somewhat curious but with a droopy, shrewd kind of smirk plastered on his furry face, Heen took to trailing him or old witch usually. Sometimes Sophie used him to wake up Howl and this made Markl's smile widen. That was always fun to sit around and watch. So caught up in his thoughts, he didn't hear the door open further and started slightly as Sophie clicked the door behind her shut.

"Markl," she said and kneeled before him, peering softly at him in what Markl was surprised and confused to recognize as an apologetic look, "Don't worry about me, okay? I didn't mean to upset you." Her words reminded him of the 'older' Sophie but had a tenderness that only youth could yield and he looked down at his feet.

"Will things be okay?" he asked.

"I am sure they will," her response was so firm he could do nothing but believe her and he grinned at her she ruffled his hair mercilessly. "Now take this dog out and chase him until he's wheezing enough to take a nap. He keeps getting in my way when I try and mop!" Her smile reassured his heart and he did as she asked without hesitation. Sophie watched him go and even as her smile began to dim she brought it back as Howl appeared in the doorway.

"I wish you would share your dream with me," he stated.

"I wish I could," she lamented.

"Is it so terrible?" his voice lilted with a deep rooted sadness and she shook her head.

"I can only remember how it felt and I could be blowing this way out of perspective," she tried to be honest and soothing all at once, with little success as Howl snorted with a strange amount of derision.

"You're one of the most level-headed persons I know, Sophie," and without actually saying it, Sophie knew he was telling her that he didn't entirely believe her previous statement. But how could she tell him she was about to leave last night? How could she tell him that the only way to protect what she loved was to figure this out on her own?

Was she even certain of that?

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And it was that moment that had brought Sophie to where she was now, walking the steps to the Prince's palace. Alone, she made an awkward if lovely picture, this single girl-woman midway through the many stairs to the entry. Her yellow sundress was vivid like sunlight, sleeveless and more her age than anything else she had ever worn; it of course, still came to her ankles as any respectable woman might hope it would. No sleeves and a clearly square cut neckline that showed off her collarbone area nicely was plenty bold enough of a fashion statement for Sophie and Howl missed no opportunity to lightly tease her about her modesty—some might call it shyness too. He insisted such things were not only lax where he came from, but on the whole, just very different and Sophie sometimes believed him, sometimes did not.

Adjusting her hat, Sophie sighed. She had no idea any more what she had hoped this would amount to.

_To change the future?_ She considered it, however unlikely it might be.

If one could not change the past, why would one be able to do the other extreme? It seemed foolish from the get-go, as it was. Still, she felt a try could not hinder them more than ignorantly waiting for something to come to pass. She squared her shoulders and made her way up the rest of the steps. Maybe if she saw the Prince first, maybe...maybe she could stop what seemed on the surface, unstoppable.

Hoping she blended in with the other daily visitors to the palace, she continued a trek much easier than her last visit to this grand staircase and noted wryly how nice it was to be her normal age.

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Elsewhere, well not really elsewhere, back at the moving castle:

Howl paced.

He didn't do it often.

But here he was.

Pacing.

Outside Sophie's door.

Pacing.

Back and forth.

Left and right.

This way and that.

To and—

"HOWL!" Markl practically mauled the absentminded Howl Jenkins's pant leg. The beautiful wizard shook his head, as though confused.

"Mm, what's that Markl?" his eyes dropped lazily to acknowledge his young apprentice. The boy put his hands on his hips very much in a mother-hen fashion.

"You've been waiting for an hour. Don't you think you could just knock?" Markl asked very matter-of-factly. Howl shook his head.

"I just can't understand it...she's never slept in so late before..." Apparently the shake of his head had not been towards his now rather irate apprentice who proceeded to tap his foot impatiently. It had been a mere and further sign of Howl's absentmindedness and fretful behavior. Howl ran his fingers perplexedly through his hair and let go a great sigh. This was the still-there coward in him, or maybe not even coward, but child. He could be dashing, or something like it. He could be debonair and mischievous and all manner of things that boasted a confidence that was more bravado than bounty. But he could not a times like this, times involving Sophie usually, rely on those sorts of things. For here he was, uncertain and worried about waking her if she had indeed slept in for once, and equally worried that if he didn't go in she might be waiting for him to do so or maybe she...Howl stopped pacing.

Maybe...he turned and with a quick flick of his wrist had the door wide open.

Maybe she wasn't there at all.

Her bed was neat and made and nothing seemed out of sorts except for the absence of the hat maker herself. His eyes shadowed themselves with something unreadable, barely registering Markl's head at his waist, peering around the doorframe.

"Master Howl? Where's Sophie?" the young boy didn't even notice his use of 'master' which had for most purposes been foregone ever since Sophie returned Howl's heart.

"That fool," Howl muttered loudly—if one could mutter loudly and Howl certainly pulled it off—and without answering a perplexed Markl, he fled through the Kingsbury door, his apprentice at his heels as Heen and old Witch stared blankly after them.

"Howl!" Markl yelled. "What's going on?"

"Sophie, that idiot, went to the palace by herself. It's those nightmares, I'm certain," Howl fumed at himself for not noticing sooner and at Sophie for her unusual show of tactlessness. Markl struggled to keep up, a little more annoyed with every five steps to match Howl's one.

"That's not making any sense to me Howl!" the boy was exasperated with his master's renowned vagueness and was truly surprised when Howl skidded to a halt, turned and poked Markl in the chest, though not unkindly.

"Markl, go back to the castle. This will be much faster if I go alone. You're just going to have to trust me when I tell you I'm not coming back without Sophie, alright?" It was not at all an explanation, but it did the job. Markl was wise beyond his given years and knew exactly when to push Howl and when to subject to him. This was one of the latter moments and with one last questioning stare that belied his worry, he turned to go back. He felt a hand ruffle his hair caringly a moment later. "I'll bring her back, Markl." The boy turned around, knowing the wizard would be gone by the time he did and stared at the empty space.

"You better, Howl Jenkins," he mumbled and made haste back to the castle.

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more?


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